


Restrict the Restless Hands

by Skegulium



Category: Dishonored (Video Games)
Genre: Animal Death, Animal Torture, Gen, and this is all purely self indulgent OC writing, angry children are very angry about the rat plague, i just wanted to write an AU fic for my own OCs, this has nothing to do with any canon characters, this takes place during the first game right after Jessamine dies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-12
Updated: 2019-09-12
Packaged: 2020-10-17 08:01:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,764
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20617667
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skegulium/pseuds/Skegulium
Summary: "Ollie, th' fuck are ye doin'?"It was the first thing Talgan uttered once he materialized behind the kid. Sulky blue eyes glanced over hunched shoulders, a bright prick of color against the murky black of the water surrounding them. It’s a surprisingly good look of pure loathing mustered up by a ten year old, he had to admit.---------------Talgan loses his charge and goes looking for Ollie - wherever the little hellion might have gone.(Self indulgent OC AU fic!)





	Restrict the Restless Hands

Children shouldn’t be here.

The rest of the whalers knew it, and Talgan knew it too - the Flooded District wasn’t made for children to run wild and free ‘round the buildings. The buildings were too tall and too dilapidated to be safe for children to play around in One wrong slip of the foot and a tiny little thing made for a mighty big meal for the hagfish and the rats living in the flooded alleyways down below. A child has no place here, of all places in Dunwall.   
  
And yet, one was here anyway. Brought in by his own two hands, tearstained and newly orphaned, a mother long missing and a father wrapped up fresh in a body bag and no doubt already buried somewhere else in the very same district he stood in now. Buried not under dirt, but hundreds of unmarked bodies, leaving behind one small, lonely child. And now? Now the whaler couldn’t even find the damned little rugrat - and he hoped desperately it wasn’t because there was a body sunk deep in the waters of the district.

Transversing was a special gift given to him personally by Daud. He’s been using it for oh, close to a year now, but he never did get used to the thrum of black magic through his veins and the unexplainable pull of his soul through the very fabric of time and space. His own little hellion compared it to being a needle shoved through a thick piece of upholstery and Talgan couldn’t argue. It was the best description of transversal that he’s heard yet. He certainly did feel like a needle puncturing fabric as he hopped around the district, feet touching the tiles for barely a second before he jumped again and again. 

The courtyard of the Whaler stronghold was suspiciously empty of mischief and aggravated whalers asking him to take his tagalong away, so he didn’t bother scouring there. But the buildings right outside of it… well, that’s how he found the elaborate little ropes and chains connecting the buildings, giving one ingenious little kid the ability to swing between balconies if they were fearless enough. Which, if he was honest, he knew was not only a possibility, but an assured reality. Clever little shitling, Talgan had to admit. Much too clever for him to be comfortable with.   
  
Now, it was just a matter of following the trails of swings and makeshift bridges across the district.

How far could one child go? The little shite couldn’t even transverse!    
  
Eventually, Talgan ran out of lines to follow. The chains got longer between the buildings, ramps were scarcer to find, until he reached the top of a tailor’s building and then there was nothing more. He dropped down hard on the roof of a factory, tile skidding underfoot and he kicked aside a loose square without a second thought. He had taken his whaler mask off before he even left to find his wayward little irritant, so he had to squint against the glare of the sun off the waters below. There’s nowhere else to go, he realized with a grit of his teeth. Nowhere else but -    
  
Down.   
  
Tiles crunched under his feet and pigeons took off in a cloud of feathers and bird shit as he approached the edge of the roof, one hand on his belt as he leaned over. Down below, the water glittered with an intensity he cursed, but it couldn’t stop him from scanning the walls underfoot. The sun glinted off of metal railings and broken windows - and a long, long chain tied to the gutter not that far from you, the length swaying in the breeze. It was frighteningly long, and as he followed the length of it, it ended right above the stone tops of a courtyard wall. But there, at the end of the walls was a tiny little dot of a figure, hunched over the edge. Hunched right over the edge, facing the murky black depths of the Flooded District’s dirty, disgusting lake that gave it it’s namesake.   
  
Talgan didn’t waste time before he held his palm out to the wall five feet behind the dot and grasped at the very fabric of space before he punctured through it. Just like a needle.   
  
"Ollie, th' fuck are ye doin'?"  
  
It was the first thing Talgan uttered once he materialized behind the kid. Sulky blue eyes glanced over hunched shoulders, a bright prick of color against the murky black of the water surrounding them. It’s a surprisingly good look of pure loathing mustered up by a ten year old, he had to admit. Mussed, blond hair sat in a haphazard bun on her head, a testament to his own ineptitude of working with hair longer than a man’s chin and stray strands floated in the gentle breeze. The stone wall she sat on was stained dark from water and mold but she didn't seem to care with her legs crossed and next to her knee, a cage jittered and shook. It shook and squeaked even, because it was filled with _rats._    
  
Rats, just like the one she had tied to the end of a fishing line, string cutting in deep against its neck even as it flailed in the air and it’s tail whipped around.   
  
It’s just a bit disconcerting, especially as distressed squeaks filled the empty air and Talgan’s eyebrows twisted from being bunched up against his nose to disappearing up into wispy, grey hair.    
  
His surprise held nothing for Ollie. She fixed him with a dark look, then turned one hunched over shoulder back to him. She shook the fishing line and the rat panicked again. “Isn’t it obvious?” She retorted. The line slowly began to lower and the rat struggled harder as it’s tail touched water. “I’m getting rid of the rats.”   
  
Down in the black water filling the square, something dark darts. No, not just one, he realized. There’s multiple - an entire school of hagfish that turned the water a light-sucking black from their sheer numbers. Overseers have mercy, how long has she been at this?! Even as his jaw worked for words, one of the hagfish flung itself out of the water, teeth snapping shut on the rat’s tail and jerking the entire fishing line down with it. The rat shrieked, but Ollie kept her grip on the line and kept it above water as bright red stained the black waters.   
  
Talgan sighed and bushy eyebrows slowly lowered back down to settle into something more… neutral. Something that’s a little less judgemental even though he was judging quite a lot right now. He stepped forward cautiously, eyeing up the rat’s cage and settled down next to her, feet tucked up under him to avoid the hagfish waters in front of them. A quick glance at the child showed that she hadn’t dropped her sulky look quite yet - and showed the tell tale traces of tear tracks down her cheeks.   
  
He glanced away, back towards the screaming rat and caught it just in time to watch the hagfish bite straight through its tail. Lovely.    
  
“Y’er aware there’s more rats ‘round here than y’ can feed tae thae fish, right? An’ they got thae plague. Ye shouldn’t be touchin’ any of thae rat bastards ‘less ye -”   
  
“Want to end up like my dad?”   
  
The two of them go quiet. Water lapped at stone and the rat screamed. Ollie lowered it just a little bit more, until the tips of its feet touched the water and the hagfish started biting. The rat’s shrieks ramped up until it was the only thing echoing across the water, bouncing off of water and stone alike. If the dead could wake, Talgan was sure they’d start pounding on the walls and telling the lot of you to shut the fuck up. Hell, he wanted to pound on a wall to tell the rat to shut up, but instead he settled for reaching over and snatching the fishing line from Ollie’s hands.   
  
“Hey!” She sputtered and Talgan just dropped the rat in the water, fishing rod held tight in his fist as the hagfish dug in. The rat was thankfully quiet now - only bubbles remained on the surface of the churning water.

  
He flicked the rod once to shake off a fish mouthing at the tip and shot Ollie a dark look. “Y’know only serial killers do this sort of shite, right? What are ye, a mass murderer?”    
  
Her hands snapped out to his, trying to pry his calloused fingers from the rod. “What’s wrong with that?” She countered fiercely. Nails dug into his knuckles but he just tightened his grip. “You’re a mass murderer! It’s not like I don’t know what the Whalers do! You guys get to go out into the city and put down bad people - “   
  
Talgan piped up, cool as ever. “We put down both good and bad, ‘cause we don’t care an’ we get paid tae do it.”   
  
That didn’t deter Ollie and she shouldered on. “- And I’m left here, alone and bored and watching the fish and rats all day! And I hate them! I hate the rats!”   
  
The edge of her voice pitched up and cracked at the end and he turned his head to study her fully, to watch as she blinked furiously and tried to scrub a cheek against her shoulder. Ollie’s hands were still latched firm onto Talgan’s and her eyes still burned with an intensity that told him that if he so much as tried to dab at the pre-tears gathering at her lashes, that if he so much as tried to pet her messy, braided hair and tried to coo sweet words to her, she’d be more likely to sink his own knife in his gut than accept it.   
  
So, he didn’t do any of that.

  
“So ye wannae be called thae Rat Torturer of Dunwall then?” He mocked, shaking her off. “Thae Rat Sadist? Her cruelty knows no bounds when it comes tae th’ rats? Fuckin’ pathetic name, Ollie. Can’t even make it symbolic like Daud’s can ye?” The fishing line had gone limp by now and he flicked it up, eyeing up the six inches of string that was left on the end. Then, he whipped it lightly across her arms.   
  
“Ow!” Ollie yelped, flinching back. He didn’t blink because he knew his own strength and he knew how hard this line was - the girl was fine. “Don’t hit me with that - !”   
  
Talgan whipped it again, a bit harder this time and she slapped at it. “Or what?” He mocked. “Ya’d murder another rat? Ohhh noooooo, lookit me, am so scared!” Her cheeks twisted up in anger at his words, cheeks reddening and her mouth worked furiously as she tried to rebuke, but he didn’t give her a moment to do so. Instead, he reached over and slapped her cage of rats from the stone next to her straight into the water.   
  
The rats this time barely even made a sound. There was a soft squeak of surprise as they went flying, but the cage hit the water with a crash and sent water flying everywhere and then it was gone - sinking heavy and deep into the water. The churning cloud of black in front of the two of them suddenly dissipated, the hoard of hagfish instead diving for the rat cage.    
  
Ollie sat there next to him, mouth agape and hands grasping at air as she watched the water bubble.    
  
“My rats,” She said softly and Talgan snorted.   
  
“Fuck your rats,” He grunted, then threw the empty fishing line into her lap.    
  
She’s… surprisingly quiet. The rod gets gathered up tight against her chest and she curled her knees up to her chin and she just sat there, watching.    
  
Then: “Killin’ rats won’t bring yer da back, Oliviar.”   
  
“Only my dad gets to call me Oliviar.”   
  
“Killin’ rats won’t bring yer da back, Ollie.”   
  
“I know.”   
  
Talgan glanced over to her, studying her face. It’s pensive this time. Morose, even. She looks exhausted and now that she’s not filled with anger and frustration, he can see the lost look hidden in her eyes, the look of a child who’s experienced more in ten years than an adult has in twenty. He’s never been a warm, empathetic man, but that doesn’t mean he can’t be sympathetic. After all, her father had been his friend for longer than she’s been alive - it hurt enough losing a friend, but it must hurt more to lose your father. And not only that, to be left alone with his body, to watch the City Watch pack up his corpse and carry it off and then to be left _truly_ alone until he had the good sense to come knocking on their door? The poor girl was left scrounging around in the streets, alone and penniless for weeks. The pious of Dunwall turned a cruel cheek to the suffering and not a single soul was kind enough to hold a hand out to her. Last he saw her, a month before her father died, she was rosy cheeked and well fed - but that night he found her hiding behind a dumpster she was scrawny and sallow faced, her eyes dull with hunger and bruised from scrapping with the other damned beggar children.   
  
Talgan didn’t have to be empathetic to be sympathetic, but what else could he do? She was a child and he was an adult - an assassin to boot. He wasn’t supposed to bring kids ‘round here, but her sob story was touching enough for Daud (bless his soul - he didn’t want to play on the Knife’s guilt over the Queen’s daughter) to give Ollie a roof over her head. He thought that was enough to help tide her over in her grief… but, apparently, that just might not be enough for the poor girl.   
  
He cleared his throat as he turned away from her, looking back out to the water. The black shadow of hagfish finished their new caged meal and they floated back over to where the two of them sat. “...So.” The Whaler gruffed out. “D’ye think yer just cooped up or somethin’?”    
  
Ollie glanced over at him, blue eyes baleful and empty. “I dunno.”   
  
“Ye made a pretty impressive set-up tae git out here. Seems like ye spent time thinkin’ ‘bout where tae go, huh?”   
  
“I guess so.”   
  
He paused for a moment, one thumb coming up to rub at his nose. He wonders, exactly, how far he can push Daud’s soft spot for little orphaned girls now. “...I can see ‘bout somehow givin’ you thae ability tae transverse. Dunno if Daud’d agree but…” Talgan trailed off and looked over at Ollie. There’s a bit of a light lighting up her eyes now and that’s something he can count as an accomplishment. “I can see what I can do.”   
  
There’s a moment of quiet. She doesn’t say anything and neither does he. Then:   
  
“I’d like that.”   
  
Now that’s a victory. She’s not got the notes of sadness and frustration in her voice, but something a bit more fitting of a kid her age. Something hopeful.    
  
Talgan nodded at her words, pushing himself up to his feet. A quick swipe of his hands against his whaler’s jacket shook off all the dust on his ass and then he reached a hand out to her. Ollie didn’t hesitate before her hand shot up and took his and she pulled herself up to her feet.    
  
There’s a pause and he took a moment to hold her hand and then gave it a squeeze. He was no father, but he had to hurry up and figure it out quick now. There was a hellion he had to watch out for now. “When was thae last time ye ate, Rat Torturer of Dunwall?” Talgan asked and Ollie pulled a face.    
  
“I don’t like that name.”    
  
“Well, it’s yers now ain’t it?”   
  
“I still hate it. And I ate at breakfast.” A quick glance tossed upwards confirmed that it was well into the afternoon - almost evening, in fact.    
  
“Then let’s go bother thae cook fer some late lunch.” Talgan lifted up one palm, reaching up with his mind and his black magic towards the roofs above the two of them and anchoring his transversal to a spot. Ollie didn’t speak but her hand squeezed at his. It’s a quiet thank you, but a thank you nonetheless - and then the two of you went flying like a needle through fabric. 


End file.
